


Winding around, tumbling together

by dominique012



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Community: lewis_challenge, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lewis Secret Santa 2013, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:50:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dominique012/pseuds/dominique012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hathaway is struggling, and Robbie is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winding around, tumbling together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Small_Hobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/gifts).



> Created for 2013 Lewis Secret Santa at lewis-challenge on LJ. Thank you to Complicatedlight for the britpick/beta!

_Robbie'll sort him out_

They started off together down the narrow road, watching the ambulance and other police officers leave the scene. Hathaway rubbed his face, eyes downcast. Abruptly, he let out a sound, a sort of half-groan ending with a loud, exasperated growl.

Robbie looked at him, silently cataloguing each weary line, the rigid set of his mouth, and the deep frown and pale exhaustion in his eyes. "Ah, come on. One foot in front of the other."

"Oh, what for, sir?" His voice was flat, tired.

Robbie kept his tone neutral, resisting the urge to put a hand on Hathaway's shoulder. "We do what we can, find out the truth. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't."

"But it's not enough, is it?" Hathaway's voice was low and rough. "She's lied to her whole family, killed the person who loved her most, and then tried to kill herself. She wasn't the first, and she certainly won't be the last."

"It is enough," Robbie said firmly. "It's not down to you to fix them. People do what they do, what they think they have to. We just find the truth to it all."

Hathaway acknowledged him with a grunt and a dissatisfied flick of his head. He shifted restlessly, looking round the dark street. Looking for an escape, perhaps. 

"Come on." Robbie jerked his head down the road. "I don't want to stand out here, freezing all night. Let's have a quiet pint."

Hathaway's expression was dubious, hesitating.

Robbie mustered up as stern a tone as he could. "All right, _Sergeant_?"

Hathaway wasn't fooled, but he wouldn't say no.

He huffed out a breath. "As you say, sir."

The important thing, Robbie told himself as they trudged along, was to get James through these next five minutes. After that, they could work on... well, the next five minutes.

 

+++++++

_You saved me_

The next five minutes turned into a couple of pints, and then a pub dinner. The room was close and warm and bright. Robbie did most of the talking, about nothing in particular. Casual. Comfortable.

At times, Hathaway still looked a bit tense, but a knowing glint appeared in his eye when Robbie quizzed him about "mediaeval madrigal music." He started to loosen up a bit, and Robbie was soon baiting him about Cambridge and nicotine patches. 

He finally discerned a wry smile playing about Hathaway's lips during a comprehensive tutorial on how to swear in Latin.

Inspired, Robbie attempted to work all of his newly-acquired vocabulary into a single filthy Latin sentence, and was rewarded with a real grin and guffaw of laughter.

"Awful, sir," Hathaway shook his head, still smiling. "Truly awful."

Robbie was unable to stop his own grin. "Maybe I just need to practice."

Later, as they weaved their way up to Hathaway's front step, Hathaway clapped a hand on his shoulder and held him still for a moment, looking intently, though somewhat glassy-eyed, at him. "Thank you, sir."

He sighed deeply before letting go. Robbie felt his own chest tighten.

Robbie nudged him towards the door. "In you go."

He walked slowly away from the building, watching as Hathaway closed the door behind him, safe indoors.

+++++++

_A not-bad detective_

Hathaway brought him coffee the next morning. He looked well, considering.

"Good morning, sir."

"Sergeant." Robbie reached for the proffered cup. "Thank you." He watched as Hathaway settled himself behind his desk. "How goes it?"

Hathaway looked up over his own coffee. "A bit of a headache, but fine thank you, sir."

By lunchtime, they were working through a break on an old case. Hathaway seemed to have perked up a bit. Having shrugged off his jacket, he was in the midst of an odd sort of dance - a pace of the small office while examining SOCO photos, then a sudden dash over to scribble on the whiteboard as he muttered something about old coins.

Robbie found his energy contagious. He slapped the post-mortem details down on the table. "Dr Hobson reconfirms time of death early morning, between 3 and 5, give or take. And I spoke with the sister - he wasn't working that night."

Hathaway tilted his head, thoughtful. "Perfect. McManus is a plausible suspect." He frowned. "Where did I put the forensics?"

Robbie handed him the folder. Hathaway hummed impatiently as he scanned the pages. "Where's the - ah. Yes." Eyes triumphant, he passed it over. "Look at that, sir." 

Robbie looked sideways at him, his mouth twitching around a smile. Hathaway's expression wasn't what you'd call heart-filled-with-joy, but his eyes were intense, determined. He liked the puzzle pieces. He was clever. Good at this. 

"The mechanic." Hathaway grabbed his jacket. "Sir. We should go down there."

"Right." With a nod. "Lead on."

 

+++++++

_I just wanted to make sure you, you know..._

Hathaway sank down into a chair, shifting his bandaged shoulder uncomfortably. A deep grumbling emanated from his throat.

Robbie grinned. "Getting soft in your old age?"

Hathaway looked coolly at him. "Yes, sir. That must be it. If I'd only been chased through a garage and stabbed during my heady youth."

Robbie chuckled. "You just stay there and tend to your wounds. I'm sure you'd love a beer, but the doctor said strictly no alcohol with painkillers. Tea, then?"

Hathaway looked appropriately underwhelmed. "That would be lovely, sir." His eyes followed Robbie's figure retreating to the kitchen. "I appreciate this."

Robbie shuffled about with the kettle and cups. "Well, I can't leave you home all alone, cut up and bruised, can I? Not after you made such a _decisive_ effort to catch the bloke."

Hathaway smirked. "Thank you, sir. I think it was McManus who was decisive." He gingerly pressed the back of his neck.

Robbie continued, "Between forensics and the coins we found, I don't think there'll be any problem making it stick."

"Mm." Hathaway was leaning back in his chair now, legs stretched out. He was only half-listening.

Robbie came back into the living room, looking critically at the bandage sticking up from his shoulder blade and his sleepy demeanour. "Here, how about I get some takeaway? You need to take it easy tonight."

Hathaway frowned. "I don't want to put you to-"

Robbie waved it away before he could finish. "Never mind that. I'm here; I think it might be best. And I'm hungry besides."

Hathaway smiled. "Okay. Good."

 

Hathaway was asleep. Robbie knew he should wake him and somehow send him off to bed, where he could sleep properly, not all squashed into an armchair. But the painkillers had taken effect, and he was loath to disturb his respite from the fatigue and pain. Robbie looked at him in this uncommon state of rest; his head back against the cushions, long arms folded in front of him, eyes and mouth relaxed in sleep. Peaceful. 

Robbie watched him. Should wake him.

Hathaway jumped suddenly, awaking with a groan. He drew his hand up to his shoulder.

Robbie winced, looking at him. "Bit sore?"

Hathaway rubbed an eye and then leaned forward. "Just a little." He turned his head and frowned over his shoulder in an attempt to examine the bandage.

"Stop craning your neck, man. I'll have a look."

Hathaway faced forward again, tilting his head to the side. Robbie leaned in towards Hathaway's exposed neck, wilfully ignoring the awkwardness that threatened to distract him. Mates. Injuries. All fine. 

He pushed Hathaway's shirt away from the bandage, and saw blood through the padding. "I'm sure the stitches are fine, but it's bleeding a bit. Do you have spare dressings?"

"In the bathroom cabinet."

Robbie stood up. "I'll grab them. Might want to take off your shirt." He paused. "Or wait, and I'll help you." Awkwardness returned in full force.

Hathaway sounded amused. "It's ok, sir. I'll give it a go."

Robbie headed for the bathroom and washed his hands. When he returned with the dressings, Hathaway was easing out of his shirt. Robbie helped him lift it away and laid it on a chair. He flinched at the sight of Hathaway's back. The pale skin near the stab wound was mottled with dark bruises.

He frowned. "Christ, man. You've got some angry bruises coming up here." He brushed two fingers gently over one of them. Hathaway's skin was warm, and the smooth feel of it made him realise with a start that he was touching Hathaway's back.

He felt his face flush hot, and the words tumbled out awkwardly, "Sorry. It looks a bit rough, and I... Did I hurt you?"

"No," Hathaway replied quietly. He was sitting very still, looking steadfastly at the coffee table. "It's fine. I suppose it's just harmless bruising." He turned to Robbie inquiringly. "It's not...swollen or anything?"

Robbie breathed in, experimentally running a finger over another bruise, barely touching it. "No, but I suppose it still might." He turned his attention to the dressing, gently removing the old one and replacing it. He carefully smoothed down the edges of the gauze.

"There." He briefly met Hathaway's eyes and grinned tightly. "No more manhandling." He flushed again, feeling ridiculous. He handed Hathaway his shirt.

Thankfully, Hathaway had switched into ribbing mode. "Well if anyone's going to do it, sir..."

Robbie rolled his eyes. "You'll be fine tonight?"

A small smile. "Thanks to you."

"I'll be off. You're set for a few days leave, but I'll call round in the morning. Just to make sure you haven't died in the night."

"Very thoughtful of you, sir."

+++++++

_He's my awkward sod_

The next morning, Robbie knocked quietly, wondering if he should have called first. Quips about beauty sleep wandered through his mind.

A sudden shuffling behind him and a quiet "Sir?" startled him.

Hathaway stood awkwardly, balancing a small paper bag and two coffees in a cardboard tray. He looked a bit brighter than the previous evening.

Robbie looked at him incredulously. "What are you doing out here? Aren't you supposed to be inside, resting or something?"

Hathaway smiled crookedly and inched closer. "Could you take the coffees, sir?" He passed the tray over and fished his keys out of his jeans pocket. "I was feeling quite a bit better this morning and decided to go out. Have you been here long?"

Robbie followed him in. He put the coffees down. "No, just had time to knock. How's the shoulder?"

Hathaway put down the bag. He extracted one of the coffees from the tray and handed it to Robbie. "It's fine, mostly. I could probably come in today." He sat down at the small dining table. 

Robbie glanced at him, all casual in jeans and a hoodie. "Innocent would probably just send you straight back home. May as well at least take today." He took a seat across from Hathaway and sipped his coffee. "Cheers."

"Actually, sir," Hathaway's fingertips tapped the plastic lid of his coffee, "I wanted to thank you properly for helping me out with the shoulder...and everything. You've gone above and beyond. It's very much appreciated."

Robbie shook his head, "It's nothing, man. Got to look out for you when you're all banged up."

Hathaway reached for the paper bag, his hand resting on the top, hesitating.

Robbie glanced at it. "What's that then? Been shopping already this morning?"

Hathaway flushed slightly, embarrassed. "It's ridiculous actually, sir." He looked around the room again in that looking-for-an-escape-route way of his. "But there you have it."

Robbie quirked an eyebrow. "Well, what is it?"

Hathaway sighed, pushing the bag over. "I thought, for your cuppa at work... you need something a bit better. That old one you have, well, it's a health hazard."

Robbie reached into the bag and pulled out a smooth, white coffee mug. The chunky handle and simple decorative band saved it from looking utilitarian. It was solid, classic and, mercifully, with no naff slogan.

"I'd just wanted to say thanks. I know it's ridiculous." Hathaway looked miserable.

Robbie smiled, both amused and touched by the thoughtful, awkward gesture.

"It's miles better than any of those old things we have at work. Thanks." He didn't know what to say to ease Hathaway's obvious discomfort. "You didn't have to," was the only thing that came to mind, and he regretted it as soon as he'd said it.

"Actually I wanted to," Hathaway replied. "I mean, I wanted to do something, the mug was just there. You've been a great help, you're..." He swallowed and fidgeted in his seat. "Particularly since that other night, when I was - having difficulty processing the darker aspects." Robbie smiled wryly.

Hathaway met his gaze bravely. "You're very...supportive, and I - it means - it makes the job easier."

Robbie searched for the right thing to say, not wanting to let the utter awkwardness and sheer misery of talking about feelings be for nothing. A blokey slap on the shoulder wouldn't do. He decided to just start with the obvious. "You're a good detective, James. You make me job better too. I know it's not always easy, but you should know that everything you do makes a big difference. And not just to me." 

Hathaway said nothing, but maintained his level gaze.

"As for me helping you out," Robbie went on doggedly, "It's all part of it, isn't it? You're me sergeant, me friend -" It was his turn to glance around the room, as if his next words might miraculously appear on the walls. "If you're not all right, then… I'm not really either."

His gaze finally found its way back to Hathaway, who said nothing, but as his solemn eyes met Robbie's, Robbie could almost hear a heartfelt _Thank you, sir_.

"Anyway," Robbie pushed his chair back, "Should get on, before I get a nasty call from our governor."

Hathaway went to stand too, but Robbie shushed him. "You stay there, rest up. You'll be back at it before you know it." He put his new mug back into the bag. "Thanks again. Call if you need anything."

"I will."

Robbie glanced back as he closed the door behind him

++++++

_Where's your better half?_

Robbie stretched back in his chair and tilted his head, attempting to undo the knot in his neck. It had been a busy day, but thankfully free from emergencies. He glanced over at Hathaway's empty chair. His mind flew to Hathaway's injuries, his pale shoulder, the dark bruises. He reached for his phone.

He flipped it in his palm a couple of times and then glanced at the clock.

He snorted, feeling silly. "Ah, what's the big - "

The phone rang suddenly in his hand, and he jumped a mile. "Bloody Hell!"

Checking the screen, he answered with a sharp "Hathaway!"

Hathaway's tone was puzzled. "Sir?"

Robbie didn't know whether to laugh or swear - perhaps in Latin. "Hello, hi. How's the shoulder?"

There was a moment's pause, probably as Hathaway collected his startled thoughts. "Thank you sir, I'm fine. Feeling good."

"Good. I was just thinking about you. Your shoulder, I mean. After today. The day at home..." He shut his eyes, wondering when he'd lost the ability to speak normally.

A pause and then Hathaway spoke. "Look, I'm sure you already have something on, but I've gone and bought an absurdly large lasagne. Do you want to come round and help me eat it?"

Robbie smiled, almost laughed. "Yeah. Of course."

+++++

_Are you for me?_

Hathaway answered soon after his knock. "Sir. Come in."

Robbie stepped past him into the warm flat and the alluring smell of lasagne. Hathaway was still in jeans, but wearing a thin t-shirt now and bare feet. His hair looked damp.

"I brought some wine," Robbie held up the bottle. "If you're up to it."

Hathaway smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, sir. I think I am."

"How's the shoulder?" Robbie followed him in and put the wine on the kitchen counter. 

"Bit achy, but fine." Hathaway raised his arm experimentally. "I had a shower. Helped a bit."

Robbie looked him up and down. "Ah, you're soft. Sit down and I'll open the wine."

Hathaway checked the lasagne in the oven before accepting a glass of wine. They sat down next to each other on the sofa.

"So," Robbie began, "You bored at home, or enjoying the peace and quiet?"

Hathaway took a sip. "It's only been a day. I certainly wasn't bored. I'm fine to work tomorrow."

"The work you did on the McManus case was good," Robbie observed. "You seemed to enjoy it."

Hathaway's eyes narrowed quizzically.

Robbie shrugged. "I know it's sometimes hard," he paused, "to ‘ _process the darker aspects._ '"

Hathaway snorted.

"But I also know that you like solving the riddles. Your mind winds its way round and round the pieces till it finds how they all fit together. You're good at it. And you're patient and stubborn enough."

Hathaway made a little sound; dismissive, embarrassed.

Robbie shook his head. "I'm just telling you, to drum into that head of yours that it's not all bad. I know it feels like madness sometimes. But I think it's worth something. All those puzzles, all that thinking that you do. It's important."

Hathaway took another sip of wine. "Thanks, sir."

"Anyway," Robbie went on, "I'm supposed to be mentoring you. Inspire you to do better and all that sort of stuff."

"Oh, you do, sir." No mistaking that tone or the accompanying grin.

Robbie smiled knowingly. "Okay. Well. I've said it. Done my bit."

Hathaway sat up straighter. "No, you really - "

Robbie held up a hand. "Stop thanking me, James. You're all right. You're an excellent detective." He looked sideways at him. "It's good to see you smiling."

Hathaway looked surprised, but pleased. He smiled again, this time looking a bit self-conscious. "I didn't know that was important."

"Well…it is."

It was, Robbie silently affirmed. Hathaway's smile, Hathaway's happiness. Robbie breathed in. His own happiness. The inextricable link between them suddenly made itself known to him with a jolt. Robbie breathed out as a thought uncurled in his brain. Everything in the room seemed to slow down.

He kept his voice level. "You're a tough one to crack. Those smiles are few and far between, but I'll be doing what I can." 

Next to him, Hathaway sighed. Robbie saw that his cheeks were slightly flushed.

"That sounds…good," Hathaway said quietly. He met Robbie's eyes. "You already do...quite a lot."

Robbie grinned, holding the gaze. Some peculiar questions began to press against his forehead, but looking at Hathaway's face he didn't feel like attending to them immediately. 

He set a hand on Hathaway's forearm and pressed it gently. As he moved to get up, Hathaway's eyes followed him closely.

For now Robbie didn't feel like analysing. He was in the right place.

"It must be time for dinner?" he asked. "I'll do the honours."

Hathaway nodded, eyes intent on him. "Sounds perfect."

 

**end**


End file.
